Travel With Care

He didn't expect her to be this heavy. It wasn't that he couldn't lift her, he just thought it would be easier. That first night, he wasn't sure what to do next. He hadn't planned on this happening—at least not yet, or in the basement—but Joe took advantage when opportunities presented themselves. He always had. It was his self-proclaimed best quality. But now, he could hear Barbara's footsteps overhead. So he took a tablecloth from one of the many boxes she kept full of linens and fabric and draped it over the body.

Barbara hadn't worried the first night Maggie didn't come home, which he'd expected since it was a common thing for Maggie to do. In fact, Barbara even wanted to take advantage of her absence by taking a long shower with Joe, a request of his she always denied due to the close proximity between Maggie's room and the sole bathroom. "You know I would never say 'no' to that," he told her, and so they took a long shower together, relieving a lot of Joe's stress about Maggie's body in the basement. This was their opportunity to have a fresh start.

The following day, Joe finished his rounds as quickly as possible, hoping to get home much earlier than Barbara. He did, but first needed to stop at the town's only hardware store to purchase a cooler large enough for Maggie's body. As he opened his car door, Joe spotted his pal, William Brown, proudly stepping out of his (only-slightly-used) '82 Buick Skylark and immediately made eye contact. William Brown waved, and Joe calmly closed his door and put his truck in reverse, giving a salute and smile to William Brown in his rearview mirror as he backed out. He figured it'd be easier to just keep Maggie in his truck wrapped in a tablecloth rather than be seen purchasing a cooler. The back was cluttered regardless with bags of needed-to-be-donated clothes, his fishing gear, and countless tools and car parts.

When he pulled into his usual spot at home, he made sure to park with the bed of the truck facing the house. Rows of Spruce trees created a barrier between him and his neighbors on both sides, and he could hear the Jacksons across the street playing with their son in the backyard, as per usual. If he were quick, he could get her out the front door unnoticed. He fumbled with the junk drawer while searching for a pen, then proceeded to leave a Gone fishing note on the fridge for Barbara to see. He walked back to the front of the house, kicked in a doorstop, and used the hold-open washer on the door jamb to keep the screen propped open.

He ran to the basement, pushed away the boxes surrounding her, wrapped her body—she felt wet this time—in the tablecloth, and lifted her up. He grunted while carrying her up the steps, quickly made it past the kitchen, and crashed when trying to fit down the narrow hallway. With his back rubbing closely against the popcorn wall, he rotated his body to the side, now carrying Maggie feet first, as he step-together-stepped toward the front door. The pounding of his chest softened as he began to gain sight of the truck, until he spotted Barbara walking up the steps to the porch. She was looking toward the ground, admiring the hosta blooming in the pot that had been left out all winter long. Joe immediately turned out of view, kicked open the nearest door—their bedroom—and dropped Maggie on the floor next to the bed. He stepped out of the room and slammed the door shut.

"Hey, you," said Barbara, dropping a single grocery bag on the couch.

He smiled at her and scratched the back of his head.

"You running a marathon or something? Haven't seen pit stains on you that bad since our first date." She laughed.

"Well, we did go gooseberry picking in 95 degree weather," he said.

"If I recall correctly, it was worth the sweet pie you enjoyed that night, wasn't it?"

He crossed his arms and slightly leaned forward. "Oh, yes, that pie was mighty sweet. Might need you to let me have another bite right now."